


You Should Try Again

by assholemurphy



Series: Stories From The Promised Land [4]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: M/M, Murphy's a moron, Not Beta Read, Post Season 2, What else is new, and there's an apron involved, everyone is awkward, fluff and domesticity, it's definitely shippy from here on out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-30
Updated: 2015-03-30
Packaged: 2018-03-20 09:35:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3645444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/assholemurphy/pseuds/assholemurphy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Monty’s gotten used to living with Murphy, even coming to enjoy the guy’s presence, maybe even a little too much. There’s flirting, but that’s all it’s been up until now, but after a joke gone terribly wrong, or perhaps just right, their relationship becomes more, whether it’s because they honestly like each other or because they’re both tired of being alone doesn’t matter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Should Try Again

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I'm half asleep finishing this and therefore didn't go over it, please let me know if you notice any grievous errors in it. Thanks.

[Here's the apron Monty wears, btw.](http://in1.ccio.co/HC/1A/r8/130885932889948909xiyNNi0gc.jpg)

 

“Good, you're up.” Murphy's grin was met with a look of barely awake confusion and dislike. He set a cup of coffee on the counter near a plate of waffles. “So, I thought may-”

“No.” Monty shook his head and plopped down on a barstool, ignoring Murphy's attempt at conversation in favor of the coffee. Thank god for whoever decided to freeze and stock pile it. He didn't like mornings, never had, and it didn't help that Murphy seemed to love them.

Murphy snorted as he took Monty's crutches and leaned them up against the counter, amused by his friend's grouchiness. He knew from experience that Monty would be back to being normal in about fifteen minutes and he wouldn't mean anything of what he said during that time, but it was entertaining nonetheless. “How can you drink that shit?”

Monty shrugged, muttering nonsense under his breath. It tasted fine to him, but then again, he'd come to find out Murphy was a spoiled brat when it came to what went in his mouth. He especially hated bitter things and avoided them at all costs.

“Aw, come on, it's a beautiful morning, Monty! The sun is shining, the mutant birds are chirping, absolutely amazing!”

“Why's it got to shine so early, though?” Monty whined, looking up at Murphy in distress.

Murphy just laughed in response. Three weeks. Monty had been here for three weeks and he'd already succeeded in making himself an almost permanent fixture in Murphy's life. He'd reordered the records according to the ones he found most appealing, fixed the ice maker in the fridge -which Murphy wouldn't admit to breaking, no matter how many times Monty rolled his eyes at him-, and had dug through the various cupboards and closets to find both coffee and a surprising amount of seeds -which had prompted a two hour lecture on what they were, what they'd grow into, and how they should be cared for-, all in the name of boredom. Murphy had no complaints, as long as Monty didn't touch his room, he wouldn't object.

Of course, it did worry Murphy a little. Monty had shown up so unexpectedly and then he'd made himself a home here, with Murphy, and what was going to happen when his leg was healed fully and he could leave? Murphy didn't like admitting it to himself, but he didn't want him to go. He didn't want to go back to being alone. Maybe he could just push Monty off the balcony so he'd get injured again and have to stay longer. That might work.

“Earth to Murphy, come in Murphy.” Monty startled him from his thoughts, poking at his face. “You okay there, buddy? You looked like you were spacewalking or something.”

Swatting at his hand Murphy smiled and shook his head. “Nah, just thinking.”

“A dangerous game.”

“Shut up and eat your breakfast.” Murphy said, gently swatting the back of Monty's head

“Hey!” He whined, pouting slightly. “I did, it was terrible, you should try again.”

“Excuse me?” Murphy asked, eyebrows disappearing into his hair. He had eaten some of them himself and they had tasted _just fine._ “You have a problem with my cooking?”

“Yeah, there's not enough of it.” Monty confirmed with a nod and a smirk. Riling Murphy up was one of his favorite things to do. More often than not, it resulted in playful scuffling and half-hearted insults being thrown.

“You little shit.” Murphy rolled his eyes. “If you want more then make your own.”

“I can't!” Monty whined, looking up at Murphy with pleading eyes. “Come on, please!”

“No. I've already cleaned up the mess.”

“That's your own fault for not considering the need for more.”

“More like not considering you're ability to consume your own weight in waffle mix.”

“I don't see a problem with that.”

“I do. It's called 'I don't want to make any more waffles.'”

“Please, Murphy? You're an excellent cook, you know. Please, take pity on us lesser folk.”

“Flattery's not gonna work.” Murphy shook his head, fighting back a smile. Monty could be such a child.

“If you love me, you'll feed me!” Monty teased.

“Well, then it's a good thing I don't, now isn't it?” Murphy shot back.

“Liar.”

“Brat.”

“Ass.”

“Little shit.”

“You already called me that once this morning.”

“Well, it fits.”

“You're so rude.”

“And you're such a dork.”

“A dork that wants waffles.”

“Then make them.”

“How?”

“Read the instructions.” Murphy answered with a shrug, pointing towards one of the cabinets.

“Teach me?” Monty asked, sliding off the chair. “Please?”

“Will it shut you up?” Murphy asked, giving in. It's not like he'd planned on doing anything specific today, anyway.

“No, but it might be fun.” He answered honestly, grabbing his crutches and hopping around the other side of the counter.

Murphy grabbed one of the stools and followed, shaking his head in exasperation. No, he definitely didn't want Monty to leave, but he wouldn't mind him chilling the fuck out for a day or two.

“So, the mix is in this one?” Monty asked, reaching up to open a cabinet door.

“Yeah.” Murphy set the stool next to Monty and pointed. “Sit.”

“Why? Aren't I supposed to be helping?” Monty frowned at him, confused and a little offended.

“Yes, but I'd rather you didn't fall, and the crutches are just going to get in the way. We can do everything over here, so you can still learn, without the risk of accidental death by waffle.” Murphy explained, leaning over Monty to grab the mix.

“Oh.” Monty nodded, then paused for a second. He had been planning something more eloquent, but he really couldn't resist teasing Murphy. “Hey, hold on, I've got an idea.”

“What?” But Monty was already walking off, crutches thumping softly with every other step. “Or run off, either one's fine, really.” Murphy sighed, it looked like he'd have to wait for Monty to return, he might as well gather up the rest of the things they would need.

Murphy had just plugged in the waffle maker when he heard the soft thumps returning. He turned around to glare at Monty, _who was he to just run off like that, and after Murphy had oh-so-nicely agreed to teach him and oh god, what is that and why was he wearing it now?_ “Uh, Monty? Wanna explain?”

“I found it in one of the drawers the other day.” Monty explained, swaying and making the apron twirl. It was baby blue with white polka dots and ruffles at the bottom with a bow on it's side that Monty probably liked a bit too much. He thought it was great, thought Murphy would like it, but maybe not, if Murphy's expression was anything to go by. “I could take it off, if you want me to.”

 _That would be the ideal scenario, yes._ Murphy shook his head and turned away, refusing to acknowledge the thought. “It's fine, keep it if you want to.”

Monty smiled, though Murphy couldn't see it. “So you like it? Or you're just going to tolerate it because you can't find an actual reason to dislike it?”

“The second one.” Murphy choked out, begging whatever god was out there to _just let him get through this morning and he'd never do anything bad again, ever. He'd never step a toe out of line. Hell, he'd become a priest if it helped._

“Really?” Monty asked, making his way over to his seat and hopping up on it. “Are you sure that's the case, Murphy?”

“Really, I'm sure. You want to read the instructions for me?” Murphy began measuring out egg powder and water, he didn't need the instructions, really, but he'd prefer it if Monty's mouth was occupied with something other than jabbering and, _fuck, that was so, so not what he meant._ He was so screwed.

Three weeks, the idiot had been here three weeks, and he was doing this. Murphy blamed it on loneliness, he'd been completely alone since Jaha had run off to Crazytown and that was _all it was, dammit, calm your ass down Murphy, it's a fucking apron._ A cute apron, on Monty, and, fuck, if he wasn't a sucker for cute shit like that.

“Doesn't look like you need them.”

“I do.”

“You sure?”

“Yes, Monty, for fuck's sake, just read the damn instructions _please._ ” Murphy pleaded.

“Sure you don't think it's cute.” Monty teased, turning the box over to check for the instructions.

 _Incredibly so, actually._ “Monty, just read the instructions.”

“Answer the question.”

“Instructions.” Murphy ground out through gritted teeth as he mixed everything together. He was doing his best to ignore Monty, he'd only technically known the guy for three weeks, because he'd never spoken to him back at the dropship, so it didn't count. He was just going to have to find his chill because there was no way in hell he was going to fuck this up by doing something stupid. He was good at fucking things up, he really was, but usually with violence and anger, not with... Not with _crushes._ Of all the horrible fates he could have been dealt, this was by far the worst and he couldn't remember a single thing he'd done to deserve _this_ level of hell.

“Murphy, you're killing the batter.” Monty informed him, voice laced with concern. He'd expected a reaction, maybe even some laughter or a blush, he wasn't really sure what, but not this. It was like Murphy had forced a system shut down. He climbed down off his stool and moved to stand in front of the other boy, waving a hand in front of his face, “Are you alright? Murphy!”

“What?” He yelled, jumping back and almost tipping the bowl onto the floor, Monty catching it just in time. “Shit.”

“You okay?” Monty asked with concern.

“No, fuck, no I'm really not. Please, just, just don't, alright.”

“Don't what, Murphy? What did I do?”

“The stupid apron, the stupid jokes, the whining and teasing, your general existence, really. It's all very distracting and you need to stop.” Murphy spoke gruffly, grabbing a rag and wiping a few droplets of batter off his hand.

“You want me to stop existing?” Monty asked slowly, trying to make sense of Murphy's rambling.

“Yes. No. God, I don't fucking know.”

“What's the problem, the real one, Murphy? If it's the apron, I won't wear it again, man. I just thought it was cute, you don't need to freak out on me, okay?” He began to untie the aprons straps but stopped when Murphy spoke, his voice so quiet Monty barely heard him.

“It is cute, okay?”

“Oh-kay?” Monty drug the word out, still not understanding. “Is there a problem with cute things around here?” _Cause if so, you really shouldn't be standing here, you know._ He mentally added. He hadn't meant to upset Murphy, that hadn't been his intent at all. Quite the opposite, actually.

“No, that's not it. I just- I don't want to- Just, you know what, nevermind. Let's just, make waffles and you can wear the apron and just, ignore me, okay?” Murphy practically begged. He'd fucked up already, he didn't want to fuck it up more. If he was lucky, in a few days, this would be forgotten and they could go back to normal.

“No.”

“What?” That wasn't the plan. Monty was supposed to drop it and make waffles and forget this, too.

“I said 'no,' Murphy. You're obviously upset and I'm sorry.” Monty paused for a second, trying to find the words he wanted before continuing, “That was the farthest thing from what I intended.”

“Intended?”

“Yeah, intended.” He confirmed, twirling one of the ties between his fingers. “I didn't mean to make you angry.”

“I'm not angry.” Murphy dismissed the idea, “What did you intend, exactly?”

Monty took a shaky breath. Here was everything. If he messed this up, Murphy would kick him out and he'd be back where he started. He knew he'd been here for a short time, but it wasn't like he was proposing or something, he just wanted, well, Murphy. A chance, an 'if this works, great, if not, we'll just forget about it and pretend it never happened'. Maybe he should have drank some of the liquor Murphy had setting on one of his tables, that would have helped. “I wanted you to do something. To make a move or something, instead of just tiptoeing around it like we have been.” Oh, god he hoped he'd been reading the signs right. Jasper would have known, but Jasper wasn't here, he was without wingman and in way too deep to back out now.

Murphy blinked owlishly, willing his brain to come up with any other solution to Monty's words than _that,_ because that was clearly just wishful thinking. “A move?”

“Oh, for the love of hot showers, Murphy, you're so fucking dense, you know that?” Monty growled in annoyance. “I wanted you to kiss me, you dumbass!” Or something, at least.

“Oh.” Murphy nodded dumbly, the words not registering just yet.

“Oh. _Oh?_ John Murphy, I'm standing here in the world's most ridiculous outfit asking you to kiss me and all you've got is _oh?_ ”

“You know my name?” That hadn't been what Murphy had meant to say but it was what came out first.

Monty rolled his eyes, maybe this wasn't worth it. He was obviously looking at the Earth's worst affection receptacle. They were getting nowhere, absolutely nowhere with this. Furrowing his brow in frustration, Monty grabbed Murphy by the shirt collar and gave a little jerk, pulling Murphy down to his level. If he was going to do this, he as going all out, dammit. Steeling his nerves, he leaned forward and pressed his lips against Murphy's, kissing him. It was awkward at first, like kissing a wall, Monty thought.

It took Murphy a few seconds to catch on to what was happening, but when he did, it nearly broke him. _That_ was what Monty had been screaming about. _Okay._ He'd just gotten himself sorted when he felt Monty pull away.

“Shit.” He'd fucked up. He'd thought maybe that was what he was supposed to do, but Murphy had just stood there and, oh, god, he'd fucked up so bad. “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Murphy. I'm just, going to go now. Somewhere. Away. Shit.” He wanted to curl up in a ball and disappear, but he doubted that would actually work, so he settled for scooting out from between Murphy and the counter and walking away as fast as his crutches would let him. Or, that was the plan.

“Wait.” Murphy stopped him, placing a hand on his waist. “Don't go, okay.”

Monty obliged, settling back into place. “Okay.”

“Can we try that again?” He asked, hoping for a second chance. So far his entire life had been botched first takes and barely better second tries. This time, he knew how to do this, he wanted this, he'd just been surprised that Monty had, too.

“Yeah,” Monty nodded. A do over, that's what they needed.

“Good.” Murphy smiled, leaning down and catching Monty in a proper kiss. He'd done this enough times on the Ark to know what he was doing, but he'd never actually cared for any of them the way he did the annoyingly chipper genius in front of him. He brought his free hand up to Monty's neck, deepening the kiss, but trying his best to keep it gentle and soft. He was neither of those things, he knew that, but he wanted to be, for Monty.

Monty's hands clutched in his shirt as he pulled back, a small smile on his face. “That was better, right?”

“I'm afraid not. It was terrible. I think you should try again.” Monty breathed out, refusing to let go of Murphy. He got what he wanted, he wasn't letting go anytime soon.

“And exactly what was the problem, huh?”

“It wasn't enough.” Monty told him. The awkwardness had faded and there was going to be a lot of talking and defining later, but for now, this was good.

Murphy huffed out a laugh and grabbed the other by the waist, earning him an indignant squeak as he set him up on the counter so it'd be easier and Monty wouldn't be standing on his injured leg. “Then I guess we should practice.”

“I'm alright with that.” Monty agreed, smiling as he leaned in once more.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! :) Feedback is appreciated and loved.


End file.
